Brakkul Grimhorn

A male orc barbarian infused with demon blood. His skin is red, and horns curve outward from either side of his head. Bony, spiky protrusions jut from his arms, legs, and skull. Razor-sharp teeth and prominent tusks thrust from his lower jaw, and the smell of brimstone clings to him. He wears a bear skin around his waist as a loincloth and wields a massive two-handed sword-axe. He charges into battle with a primal scream.

Brakkul was born beneath a red moon after a demon-tainted warband claimed his mother’s clan as tribute. The blood in his veins stayed quiet until his first battle, when a spear pierced his side and black fire spilled from the wound. His horns split the skin of his skull, bone spines burst from his limbs, and his scream drove both enemies and allies from the field.

The clan called him cursed and tried to bind him in an iron cage. Brakkul tore the door from its hinges, killed the war chief who ordered it, and vanished into the ash wastes. He now sells his strength to warbands, raiders, and desperate captains, searching each battlefield for an opponent powerful enough to force the demon within him fully awake.

Brakkul speaks in short commands and answers questions with a grunt, a snarl, or the flat edge of his weapon. He treats campfires like council chambers, staring into the coals while grinding his tusks together. Before a fight, he drags one claw across his horns to hear the bone rasp. He respects anyone who stands their ground, even an enemy, and shares food without being asked when someone has earned that respect.

Brakkul cannot retreat once blood has been drawn, even when withdrawal would save his companions. Insults aimed at his horns or demon blood provoke an immediate attack. He destroys restraints, cages, and locked doors on sight, often without checking what stands behind them. Each time he gives in to his fury, the demon’s voice becomes easier to hear.

Brakkul wants to find the demon whose blood runs through his veins and tear out its heart, whether that heart beats in a fiendish body or inside his own chest. He hunts warlocks, cult leaders, and fiends who might know the name of his bloodline. Until he finds the truth, battle is both his livelihood and the only place where the demon’s whispers fall silent.